


intersitial

by ceruleancity



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleancity/pseuds/ceruleancity
Summary: During the winter holiday of Kageyama’s second year, Hinata’s mother forces the Hinata family to take an unplugged vacation to Okinawa, and Kageyama is forced to...Pokémon-Go-sit.
Kudos: 20





	intersitial

**Author's Note:**

> This is a r/haikyuu Secret Santa fic for u/ThatSmallOne. Your favorite characters are also my favorites (and Pokemon is also a staple of my life). I went through many, many renditions of this fic, and I can only hope I did them some justice in this one. I'm sorry I wasn't able to work Akaashi in here in a big way! Have a wonderful holiday <3

“No.”

“Come onnn, Kageyama, it’ll be fun. I’ll treat you to like, a really cheap dinner after if you do this for me. Pretty please?”

“No.”

“It’ll be easy, you just go to _these_ stops every day, and you just have to catch one Pokemon! Just one. Every day. To maintain my streak. And err...open all my gifts. Like this. See? From my friends. And I’ll give you a list of rare Pokémon that _if_ you see them, you can go catch them. I mean, there’s other stuff, like if there’s a cool raid with a cool Pokémon or something, but I won’t make you do those!”

“ _Absolutely_ not.”

“Oh, come on, Kageyama! I won’t have access to my phone for three weeks and you’re gonna be on vacation anyway. I know you wake up every morning at 7am to jog. Just do it then.”

“ _Expensive_ dinner," Kageyama bargains.

“You know I don’t have the money for that!” Hinata whines. “How about like, that _k_ _atsudon_ place you like, but you get to order whatever you want?”

“ _Whatever_ I want. And you owe me one meal for each week. So three.”

“Stingyama,” Hinata mutters.

* * *

The first morning of winter holiday, he wakes up to jog. He catches something called an Eevee outside his house (excellent! the app tells him), spins the dumb blue triangle outside the convenience store around the block like he’d been taught, checks Pokemon Go map briefly to make sure none of Hinata’s “must catch if you see this!!” Pokémon are on it, and prepares to be done with his duties for the day.

One of the things on the map is on Hinata’s list.

It’s pink and has an egg in its front pocket. Kageyama would recognize it anywhere. He had argued the entire afternoon with Hinata about how it’s totally impractical to carry an egg around in your front pocket, and, also, while on the subject, it’s impractical to even have a front pocket like that if it serves no purpose but to carry an egg anyway. The egg would rot, and it’d be disgusting.

Its location is at the entrance to the forest path he usually runs on, which means he’s going in that direction anyway.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kageyama says out loud.

  
  


It’s usually pretty quiet at this hour around the jogging path. It’s a popular path, and Kageyama makes a point to get there before the crowds show. He has a set morning routine on training days—he wakes up at five, brushes his teeth, drinks one glass of milk with a plate of whole wheat banana pancakes, and goes out for a three-mile jog around the neighborhood. When he returns, he does cooldown stretches and two repetitions of 100 sets against the wall while doing squats.

He enjoys having a routine. The time to himself, without certain noisy mandarin teammates (or other rude, tall, blonde teammates constantly complaining about the noise yet contributing to it just by complaining), gives him time to think more deeply about volleyball. He comes up with strategies, thinks about the things he needs to work on for the day, considers the condition of his team and what they’ll need to do to move forward in the next tournament.

Today, however, there’s no peace or quiet to be found, as there’s an enormous congregation of almost twenty people at the entrance, swiping at their phones. They’re standing in such a way that getting through would be impossible even if he tried, so he sighs and relents and takes his phone out too. Sure enough, the pink, fat egg-carrier shows up on his screen. He clicks it, and the catch screen manifests. He clicks into his Pokeballs and is about to fling one when he suddenly hears a very familiar voice swear.

He immediately drops the ball, which bounces away forlornly, and looks up. Sure enough, standing with a boy Kageyama recognizes as one of Aoba Johsai’s former middle blockers, is Iwaizumi.

Kageyama stares. It’s been a year, almost, since he’d last seen Iwaizumi. It was at the Miyagi qualifiers, where Karauno had moved onto nationals, and Aoba Johsai did not. Kageyama and his team went to nationals, and Iwaizumi and his team—

Kageyama realizes he has no idea. Did Iwaizumi quit volleyball after that? He was a good player, with a threatening, consistent power shot. He would make a good addition to any college team. Did he even attend college? What is Oikawa doing now?

There was a time in middle school when Iwaizumi had been very kind to him, and he thought that perhaps they would be friends. But Iwaizumi was friends with Oikawa, and Oikawa hated Kageyama, so maybe Iwaizumi started to hate Kageyama too. The three of them still lived in the same neighborhood by Kitagawa middle school, and Kageyama sometimes saw Iwaizumi’s mother drive by in her SUV on the way back from the local bank, but they may as well have been living on different continents. 

As Kageyama internally debates whether or not he should get Iwaizumi’s attention, his friend looks up and spots Kageyama watching them. Kageyama flushes, pretends to look back down at his phone, but it’s too late. He hears the boy say, “Hey look, it’s your kid setter.”

Kageyama looks up again to meet Iwaizumi’s glance. Iwaizumi had been scowling hard at his phone, and it takes a minute for his expression to go back to neutral, then to surprise, then to delight.

“Kageyama!”

“Hi, Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi grins. Kageyama feels himself reddening. The last expressions he’d seen on Iwaizumi’s face were shock, dismay, and devastation. He prefers this.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” Iwaizumi says, grinning, “except on TV.”

Kageyama isn’t sure what he means by that, but he stays silent.

“I’m guessing you’re a Go fanatic as well. Come on, join me, let’s suffer together.”

“Suffer?”

“He’s already gone through almost all his berries and twenty-three balls,” his friend says, sounding cheerful. He pins Iwaizumi with a slightly smug look, waving the phone in his right hand. “Unlike the true master, who caught it in fifteen tries.”

“Fuck off,” Iwaizumi says pleasantly. “Come on, Kageyama, we’re in this together.”

Suddenly, Kageyama doesn’t feel like mentioning that this is Hinata’s account, and he doesn’t even know what this pink thing is called.

He goes over to Iwaizumi. As surreptitiously as possible, he peers over at Iwaizumi’s screen as he plays. For one, he’s surprised that Iwaizumi isn’t using the usual red ball that Hinata always used when teaching him, but a yellow and black one. For another, he’s tossing something that looks like a raspberry from the bottom of his screen. Hearts appear around the Pokémon, and the color of the circle changes.

Huh.

Kageyama tries it too. There are all sort of berries that drop down from the list. He finds the pink raspberry Iwaizumi used, thinking it the safest bet, and flicks it towards the Pokémon. Then he clicks the bag, finds the other type of ball, and flicks that over too.

Just like in the morning, his throw is Excellent!, the ball quivers a few times, and seals shut in a flurry of stars.

Iwaizumi’s friend, who had been watching them both, starts laughing maniacally.

“Holy shit, he got it on the first try.”

Iwaizumi’s head snaps up. He cranes his neck towards Kageyama’s phone, and his jaw drops.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he says. “That should not be technically— Fuck. You know what, I have an idea. Here, how about you try it on mine.”

Kageyama thinks he should _p_ _robably_ tell Iwaizumi at this point that he actually has no idea what he’s doing, and he’ll probably ruin everything, but he can’t get the words out. Instead he obeys, because it’s hard to say no to Iwaizumi, and repeats the same process he’d done for Hinata. There it is again—“excellent,” the quivering, the stars.

Iwaizumi’s just staring at him now.

“Um,” Kageyama says.

“You know,” Iwaizumi says, looking queasy, “this is the first and probably the last time in my entire life I will ever understand Oikawa.”

* * *

  
  


They go to Iwaizumi’s favorite pancake place for breakfast. The other boy, whose name, once spoken out loud, he immediately remembered, joins them. When Kageyama admits to Iwaizumi that he was just playing the game on Hinata’s behalf, and those were only the second and third Pokémon he’d ever caught, Matsukawa falls into a fit of laughter that doesn’t quell for a good five minutes. It’s quiet, still, in the restaurant, early, so he merely cusps his hands over his mouth and shakes silently in his seat.

“The talk is true,” Matsukawa says, when he’s somewhat recovered. “You really are a genius.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm?” Matsukawa smiles. Still chuckling slightly, he takes the communal pitcher of water at the center of the table and starts pouring Kageyama’s cup, then Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi grins at Matsukawa, and taps the table with two fingers.” Just that they’ve always said you’re a genius at volleyball, but it seems you’re pretty great at everything.”

“I’m not a genius in volleyball,” Kageyama counters.

Matsukawa says, “No? I see,” in a neutral voice, but glances over at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s pinned Kageyama with an intrigued look.

“You don’t think you’re a genius at volleyball, Kageyama?”

Kageyama is taken aback by the question.

“Of course not,” Kageyama says. “There a lots of things I can’t do. Lots of plays that I—“

He cuts off. During last month’s final, he’d received a perfect pass from Nishinoya at 23-24, Karasuno’s game point, on Aone’s serve. He had the option to go right—to Ennnoshita, go left—to Tanaka, or set a quick to the middle—to Tsukishima. Everything was open to him. He had watched Date Tech’s first-year middle blocker throughout the entire game, and despite being tall with good technique, he’d shown both poor timing and poor agility; pace, Kageyama thought, was they key. But he had set the ball to Tsukishima, and the first-year blocker synced with Futakuchi perfectly to cut off all of Tsukishima's angles. He reached his long arms clean over the net and stuffed the ball. 

“—and there’s lots of plays that I read wrong,” Kageyama finishes, feeling slightly annoyed for some reason. “And lots of times when I should have done one thing but did another.”

“Well, that doesn’t make you _not_ a genius,” Iwaizumi says, “but you know, I’m glad you don’t think you are. It’s a silly word.”

“A silly word for lesser men,” Matsukawa says, in his relaxed voice. He raises an eyebrow at Iwaizumi, and they grin at each other.

Kageyama frowns. “What do you mean, glad?”

Their pancakes arrive, and Iwaizumi immediately slathers syrup onto his, and starts cutting the stack through with a knife. Kageyama’s never seen that before, since he usually just eats them with his hand, so he picks up a knife and tries the same thing. Then he doesn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to eat them, because they’re split into four parts. Does he pick up one tiny piece at a time, or the whole stack that’s been quartered?

He doesn’t have a lot of time to decide, because Iwaizumi’s speaking again. 

“People shouldn’t spend all their time evaluating whether they’re a genius or not. In my opinion,” he adds. “The less you think about things sometimes, the better.”

“That’s not what Akaashi-san said to me during camp,” Kageyama says, remembering. 

“Yeah? What did Akaashi say? That’s Fukurodani’s setter, isn’t it?”

He is, and last year, with Akaashi as starting setter, Fukurodani had won nationals, and Karasuno, with Kageyama, hadn’t. During regional qualifiers for the Spring High this year, Fukurodani had advanced, and Karasuno hadn’t. 

“He said I should always be watching, and antici—anticipating about what the opponents are thinking before they can even think it.”

“Mm, that’s not really the kind of thinking I mean,” Iwaizumi says. “I mean that you shouldn’t spend all of your time comparing yourself to others, or thinking about how much more or less talent they have than you do. But Kageyama…” 

Iwaizumi looks up from his food very suddenly (ah, Kageyama thinks, you stick the fork all the way down into one stack and put the whole thing in your mouth), and looks at Kageyama instead. Kageyama, embarrassingly, under the strong gaze, flushes again, and quickly looks down at his hands. 

“I don’t think you of all people have to worry about things like this.” Iwaizumi laughs, and it’s a sound that Kageyama used to feel warm and happy hearing, echoing off the walls of the gym at Kitagawa Daichi. “If anyone can be immune to these kinds of thoughts, it’s you.”

* * *

On the way back from the breakfast place, as Kageyama is about to go home, do his reps, and watch footage, Matsukawa nudges Iwaizumi and says, “Hey look, when it rains it pours.”

Kageyama looks up at the sky. It’s a clear, bright blue, no clouds in sight. He’s still staring into the winter sun, slightly confused, when Iwaizumi says, “Hey, Kageyama, your friend’s gonna like this one. If you’re still free, you should come.”

Kageyama looks back down, and his eyes adjust just in time to see Iwaizumi holding his phone out at Kageyama. On the screen is a little white bird with a body shaped like an egg. Its location is at a sports center nearby, where Kageyama knows, from memory, that at this hour there’s a volleyball clinic for kids.

“Okay,” Kageyama says. He’s not interested in running any more of Hinata’s fool’s errands, but Daichi and Sugawara used to volunteer there on weekends, and he wonders who volunteers there now. Iwaizumi and his friend break off into a sprint, and Kageyama, alarmed, follows suit. 

“They only stay spawned for a little while,” Iwaizumi shouts from somewhere ahead of him, a combination of words which mean nothing to Kageyama. For someone who only plays intramural college volleyball, Iwaizumi has better fitness than most people on Kageyama’s competitive team. Mostly Tsukishima, but also Ennoshita-captain. Kageyama makes a note to mention this to Tsukishima, and to politely slip it into conversation with Ennoshita-captain. 

Once inside the gym, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa are instantly consumed in catching the bird, which gives Kageyama some time and space to look around the gymnasium. As he’d thought, there’s an open clinic for kids under 12, coached by a rotating series of volunteers. Today, there’s three, and he doesn’t recognize the two who are tossing balls from the service line for a passing drill. The one he does recognize is standing with just one boy, off to the side, showing him the proper way to put out a platform. They’re too far away for Kageyama to hear their conversation, but he sees Ushijima mouthing the words “don’t hunch your shoulders up.” Ushijima towers over the kid, who probably comes up to Kageyama’s thigh, but instead of looking afraid, the boy looks delighted. 

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Iwaizumi says, very suddenly and violently from beside Kageyama, and Kageyama jumps a foot. Half the kids in the gym and all three of the volunteers, including Ushijima, turn to stare at them. Matsukawa looks down, like he’s laughing, but trying not to show it. Kageyama’s not sure if Iwaizumi’s caught the Pokemon or it’s run away, but Iwaizumi’s holding his phone carelessly to his side, not paying the screen any mind.

In a quieter voice, he says, “With kids? This is a terrifying sight. Mattsun, I’m dreaming, right?”

“What if,” Matsukawa says, “he didn’t get his contract with Oita renewed? What if he’s just a bum now leeching off his parents’ money?”

“Oh god,” Iwaizumi says, and looks overjoyed. “Maybe he’s doing this for something to put on his coaching resume.”

But by now Ushijima’s started walking up to them, Matsukawa is kicking Iwaizumi on the leg, and Kageyama briefly recalls one of the best moments of his first year when he had shaken hands with Ushijima at the net after beating Shiratorizawa. 

“Iwaizumi,” is the first thing Ushijima says, when he approaches them. Kageyama looks at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi is wearing an expression that he used to wear around Oikawa, whenever Oikawa said something about how small Iwaizumi’s brain was. He looks distraught at having been addressed. “What are you doing here? It’s a children’s clinic.”

“ _Obviously_ ," Iwaizumi says. He flushes. “I have business that doesn’t concern you.” 

Matsukawa coughs. Ushijima looks like he’s about to say something else, but as he turns around, surveying the area, he spots Kageyama. 

They hadn’t seen each other since the qualifiers match. Ushijima graduated, and went to play for Oita Miyoshi. Whenever he had time, Kageyama would stream their matches on Hinata’s computer. A few weeks ago, in November—

“I saw you at the World Grand Champions Cup ,” Kageyama says. “I saw your game against Brazil.”

Kageyama realizes it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as he gets it out. Japan had lost 17-25 17-25 15-25 in that game. They went on to lose in the pool play stage. But Ushijima doesn’t look bothered. 

“It was a good learning experience,” he says. 

“Learning experience?” 

“Playing against the best teams in the world give you perspectives that you can’t see from the ground. It is like standing at the top of a very high mountain. You can see very far in every direction, whether you win or lose. Even losing becomes rewarding.”

Iwaizumi, beside Kageyama, lets out a huge scoff. Again, Kageyama jumps slightly. At least half the kids who had been in the passing drill weren’t passing anymore at all, and were watching the adults with interest. 

“You don’t think so, Iwaizumi?” Ushijima says. He tilts his head about ten degrees to the left. 

“I think your metaphors are bullshit,” Iwaizumi says, his own head perfectly straight and his body pointed towards Ushijima, like a knife. “Just because none of us are _national team players_ doesn’t mean we’re standing below sea level or something.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I can read between the lines,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“Nor did I mean it like that,” Ushijima replies. 

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes. Someone in the background shouts at the kids to not slack off. “It’s a _luxury_ for you to be playing at a stage where even losing feels like a privilege. For most of us, losing is the end of the line. It means no more scholarship, no more contract, no more—whatever. Means we won’t be able to pay the bills this month or the month after. If something happened to our family, we won’t be able to help them.”

“Is that the situation you’re in, Iwaizumi?”

“That’s beside the point. God, it’s just like in high school. You haven’t changed at all.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that,” Ushijima says, “but it isn’t my place to tell you otherwise.”

“No,” Iwaizumi says. Matsukawa coughs again from behind him, but Iwaizumi either doesn’t hear him or pretends not to. “Please, tell me otherwise.”

Ushijima goes to open his mouth, but Kageyama, as if someone has taken over his body, says, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.”

Iwaizumi actually swivels on his heel to turn away from Ushijima to Kageyama. Kageyama feels himself shrink one meter, but for some reason, he can’t stop himself from continuing on. 

“I think what Ushijima-san is trying to say is that sometimes losing feels like it’s the end of the world, but it isn’t. We learn something. Even if it’s frustrating. And when you get near the top of that mountain even one time, you just have this feeling, like you know you’re going to get there again.”

“Yes,” is all Ushijima says, and in a quiet voice. 

“Ushijima-san, Karasuno lost to Date Tech in the prefectural finals. We won’t be going to nationals. I hated that feeling. I never want to feel that way again. But at the next Olympics, I will be there with you, even if I have to lose ten more times to get there. On the national stage, I will make you say that I’m a better setter than Oikawa-san.”

“Is that so?”

Ushijima does something strange with his face then, and Kageyama can’t figure out what it is, for the longest time, until he finally realizes that Ushijima is smiling. It isn’t the kind of creepy, smug smile that Tsukishima likes to give to Kageyama all the time, or Hinata’s big, overly-enthusiastic one that he gives Kageyama _just_ before he screams loudly in Kageyama ear and breaks his eardrum. Or the pitying smile Yamaguchi gives him after, when his eardrums are completely dead. It’s more like the smile Daichi used to give them before games: when he would say, _We're going to win,_ and _I expect nothing but the best from you._

“I’ll see you there, then, Kageyama,” Ushijima says. 

“Ushijima-san.”

“What is it?”

“I admired Oikawa-san a lot too. I don’t think he liked me very much, but I still looked up to him. He’s a very good setter, but it’s not his setting skills I admire. It’s the fact that he always seems so—”

Kageyama wants to say fearless, but then he remembers this word Tsukishima taught him (then made fun of him repeatedly for not remembering) so he scratches and scratches his brain for it until he finally manages to summon it to the forefront of his mind.

“—intrepid. Like even losing wasn’t enough to make him afraid.” 

“I agree,” Ushijima says. He’s still smiling slightly, and it’s a strange, but not altogether unpleasant, sight. 

“I think Iwaizumi-san’s like that too,” Kageyama adds, before Ushijima can turn back around. “More so than anyone else.”

* * *

They leave the gym in relative silence. Matsukawa _did_ catch the Togetic, though Iwaizumi didn’t, and occupies himself by pressing its little avatar, watching with a smile as it flaps its wings. 

“Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says.

“Sorry for what I said,” Kageyama says, at the same time that Iwaizumi says, “I’m sorry for acting childish.”

“You weren’t at all, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Ah, you’re too nice, Kageyama.” He looks up at the sky, and Kageyama does too, until he gets dizzy, and realizes it was a bad idea. He ends up slowing down the pace of his walking, and Iwaizumi, walking beside him, slows down too. “I’m sorry you guys lost in the qualifiers.”

Kageyama doesn’t say anything. 

“I guess it’s harder for me to envision the top of that mountain because I’ve never even gotten close to it. I can’t stand that Ushijima was right that whole time, that we weren’t good enough as a team.”

“That’s not true,” Kageyama protests. 

“It is, but—well, it’s in the past now.”

“You said you played intramural. Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah. I do. A lot, actually. Mattsun plays with me, and some of our former Seijoh teammates too. It's the highlight of my week. It’s nothing like what you’re used to, though, I’m sure.”

“We don’t,” Kageyama says, but finds himself hesitating to continue. He thinks about being more intrepid, how it might not just be in volleyball, but everything. It’s a stupid metaphor, he thinks, Iwaizumi even said so himself, but he has that feeling again that this is something he has to say. 

“We don’t all have to stand on the same mountain. Just because...you haven’t reached the top of the mountain that Ushijima-san stands on doesn’t mean you can’t reach the top of your own mountain and still be happy there. I think it's fine for you to stand at the top of your own mountain."

Iwaizumi’s face breaks into a smile, and Kageyama exhales with relief.

“You know,” Iwaizumi says. “That metaphor’s a lot more charming when you use it.”

Kageyama tries to come up with something to say to that, but in that moment, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi’s phones buzz, and he’s spared for the time being. They stop, and Kageyama does too.

“Aww, cute,” Matsukawa says. “It’s a Oshawott.”

“Only passable Black & White starter,” Iwaizumi declares. 

Kageyama takes out his phone too. It’s a strange little animal, with a seashell on its stomach. Hinata already has one, but Kageyama catches it anyway. When they’re all done, Iwaizumi looks up and says, “Huh, this is the spot.” 

Matsukawa gives a small smile, then turns slightly away from Iwaizumi, looking up at a patch of sky. Kageyama isn’t sure what the significance of that patch of sky is, but Matsukawa seems intent on looking at it.

“What spot?”

But Iwaizumi isn’t really listening. He’s looking out at the street. To Kageyama, it looks like any other street—it’s on the way from Aoba Johsai, back towards the complex where Kageyama and Iwaizumi live—but Iwaizumi’s now staring down the road with the exact same distant look with which Matsukawa is looking at the sky. There are some houses, some trees, and, above, telephone wires that run from corner to corner. A low stone wall separates the houses from the street. Overgrown bushes threaten to flood out from behind their barricades. 

“Hey, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says, his tone light, extending his arm. “Hold out your hand like this?”

”Like this?”

”Yeah.”

“Like you want to do a fist bump?”

But Iwaizumi laughs then, retracts his hand as quickly as he had extended it, and says, “Just kidding. Oikawa would kill me.”

“A little suffering’s good for him, though,” Matsukawa says, grinning up into the sunlight. “It’ll toughen him up.”

Kageyama stands and observes. His arm is still slightly extended towards Iwaizumi, and he folds it back to his side. That exchange is is one of the many things in the day he doesn’t fully understand, but both Iwaizumi and Matsukawa seem content, and strangely, he feels rather content too. 

—

Kageyama doesn’t get home that night until seven in the evening. His mother’s returned from work already, and retired to bed early, so Kageyama doesn’t want to disturb her by watching matches on his computer. She’s left dinner for him, plastic-wrapped, in the fridge, but he had already eaten with Iwaizumi earlier. He wants to blame the disruption of his well-crafted training schedule on Hinata and his stupid Pokemon, but he also knows he was the one who willingly went around Sendai with Iwaizumi all day, chasing raids, battling gyms.

He goes to his room and flips open his laptop. Instead of putting in a DVD, he opens his email, finds Hinata’s address, and starts a new message   
  
  


_Baka Hinata,_

_I caught you the pink egg thing, a Darkrai from a raid, and 40 other Pokemon. I also spun some Pokestops. It completely ruined my day’s training schedule, and I deserve more katsudon. There was also a Starmie near a dumpster and one of the cats that likes to sit on the dumpster scratched me on the face. You also owe me more katsudon for that._

_Get back from vacation soon, lazy scrub. We’re going to win the Interhigh next year._

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. It is borderline impossible to catch a Chansey (or a Blissey! whatever floats your boat) in one try, and only Kageyama could ever hope to achieve that sort of triumph. 
> 
> 2\. Unfortunately, not very many things took place internationally during the year 2013, which is the year that people who are more familiar with canon timeline than I have told me this story, Kageyama's 2nd year, would take place. Thus, Ushijima has the honor of attending the prestigious...World Grand Champions Cup. Sorry, Ushiwaka. I wanted him to go to the Olympics, but it wasn’t meant to be.
> 
> 3\. The place where the Oshawott spawns is meant to be the street in the Seijoh extra where Iwaizumi and Oikawa make their declaration :')


End file.
